Table Number Nine
by mimi932
Summary: Jim does some soul searching over a bottle of Stoli and ends up opening up to Blair sharing some deep seeded fears.


Rating is for language and implied heterosexual activity

Disclaimer: The characters in this story (Jim and Blair) are the property of PetFly and Paramount Productions. No money was made as the result of this piece.

Epilogue to Attraction

"Table Number Nine"

He walked quickly out of the bedroom through the living room and out the front door. Closing the door he leaned against it, almost slumping in relief. He'd made it, he'd managed to walk away, to do what was right, not what his body demanded that he do. He wanted nothing more than to turn and walk back into the suite and surrender to his desires. He knew she'd be willing, he could almost feel her skin against his. He could smell her hair; feel her breath hot against his skin. He groaned and pushed himself away from the door. As he wiped the perspiration from his face with his hand he reached for the cell phone and called Simon asking that he send a car to transport the prisoner. He couldn't think of her as Laura, he could only think of her in generic terms, otherwise he didn't know if he could bear to leave, but he did. Every step farther away from her was like stretching an elastic band; the pull got stronger and stronger. He knew that if he could just get far enough away it would break.

As he drove back to the station his thoughts roamed, never lighting for too long on any one subject, just flitting back and forth, the one constant thread being his seeming inability to be loved. Just what was it about him that made him so difficult to love? Without realizing it, he had parked the truck in the garage and arrived at the door to Major Crimes. As he stepped through there were several well-meaning officers there congratulating him on the bust. If they only knew at what cost it came; not in terms of money or even manpower, there were no injuries, no officers down, no rushed trips to the ER; there was only one casualty. James Ellison, not his body, not even his soul, but that part of every person, every human being that wants to love and be loved, that very special piece of him had been ripped out for the last time. He sat and typed the report up, printed it out and put it in Simon's basket. With a tired shuffle to his gait he walked out of the bullpen and got on the elevator headed for the truck.

On the other side of town at the loft the shrill ring of the phone woke Blair Sandburg from the unintentional nap he'd succumbed to while reading the extremely boring report of one of his students. He reached for phone, knocking it on the floor. He rolled to his side and reached down to picked it up, fearful that whoever was calling had been disconnected.

"Sandy, are you there?"

Blair easily recognized the voice of Megan Conner, if not by her accent then by the nickname, no one, but no one, other than she called him Sandy.

"Yeah, Megan, I'm here, just drowsy, I fell asleep on the couch and the phone woke me."

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to wake you, just wanted to give you the ol' heads up"

"Why, what's going on?"

"Your partner just left here looking like he'd lost his best friend. He busted Laura and then called Simon to transport her. He just finished the report and walked out."

"Was he coming home or what?"

"Don't know, but he looked more like he had a bar on his mind than anything else. Anyway I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah, thanks Megan. I'll talk to you later." As he hung the phone up a slight expression of worry flicked across his face and be began a conversation with himself in his mind. Where was he going, would Jim be coming back to the loft? What had happened? Should I just wait here or go looking for him? Blair glanced at the clock and noted that it was 4:23. Jim should be home by 5:15 if that was his destination.

Jim Ellison wasn't headed to the loft. At that very moment Jim Ellison wasn't sure where he was headed. But he knew that he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere that wouldn't hurt. He pulled the truck into the parking lot and without making a conscious decision he walked into the dark, smoky bar. He scanned the room, searching out an empty table. Spying one in the rear of the bar he made his way to it, catching the eye of the barmaid on his route. He sat down in the chair facing the door, a habit so engrained into him that he did it without thinking.

"What can I get for ya?"

"Double _Stoli_ on the rocks."

"Sure, be back in a sec, you want anything to eat with that?"

"No, just the _Stoli_."

As he did a quick recon of the room he began to categorize the occupants, placing each into a niche based on their threat level. After accomplishing that and deciding that he could relax he gave a little laugh, thinking to himself what a comment that was about his life in general. Was he so wary, so cynical of his fellow man that he couldn't even have a drink without doing a threat assessment? And he then he wondered if had he always been that way, even as a child? And if not, when had it begun? Where would it end? His thoughts were interrupted by the waitress returning with his drink,

"Anything else I can get ya?"

"Yeah, bring me another."

"Now?"

"Yes, is there a problem with that?"

"No, just checking to be sure I heard you right."

By the time she returned with the second drink, he had finished the first. As she reached over and picked up the empty he stopped her with his glare. She left the empty glass and glanced into his blue eyes. What she saw there rocked her back on her heels and instead of making the joke she had in her mind, she just asked if he wanted another. The only response was a nod of his head. He looked down into the glass of clear liquid. He could see the inclusions in the ice; the swirls in the vodka as it mixed with the water melting from the ice. His hands touched the glass and the sensation of the cold made him flinch, not just the cold, the wet as condensation formed on the glass, and then the smoothness of the glass, just a slight chip on the rim, not enough that anyone but him would notice.

His ears picked up the whir from the CD player as the laser scanned over the disk, a country song softly coming through the speakers, he focused on the lyrics, just long enough to hear the words and register that it was a love song. His eyes picking up the glow of sparkle of the lights reflected from the glasses hanging upside down over the bar. The smell of the vodka as he lifted the glass to his lips and then the burning sensation on his lips and tongue as it washed down. It reminded him of the sensations he'd felt with her. Her taste on his lips, he could remember the heat she'd generated warming his skin, making him even hotter than the internal heat that was overwhelming on its own. Oh god, he'd needed her, he'd needed that feeling, that almost unbearable sensation of being needed and wanted and loved. He knew that it wasn't love, it was lust, but he'd reveled in it. Lust seemed to be as close as he would ever come to love. The reality had never sunk in until now; he would never have it all. He'd never be needed like most men, men who came home at night to a wife and kids who loved him and depended on him. He guessed that he'd known if for a long time. Hell who was he kidding; he'd known it all his life. After all, his own mother and father couldn't love him, so what made him think anyone else could?

"Hey bubba, you ready for another?"

"Yeah." He lapsed back into his thoughts, again wondering what there was about him that made him so unbearable to love. His men had respected him and there were many that feared him, but there was not one person who ever, really loved him. When his mom had left, he'd told himself that it wasn't anything he'd done, it had to be his dad or Stevie or something, but please not him. And then his dad had told him the truth. She couldn't live there with him, knowing that he was different. She'd tried, but she just couldn't stand the idea that she had given birth to such a, (what were the words his father had used, some sick horrible idea of a practical joke by God, some freak of the unnatural) so she'd left.

He'd tried, but he'd never been able to measure up to what was expected of him. His back was never quite straight enough, his grades never quite high enough, he never ran fast enough, oh he was fast enough to win, but he'd missed the record. Of course, his father had never been there to see him win. He' never seen him lose either, he'd just never been there.

As the waitress set down the third glass she tried to read his expression, but she'd never seen a face so cold, she'd never seen eyes so dead. She'd seen a lot of pain and sorrow drowned in her years of working in this business, but she'd never seen the soul wrenching agony that raged in the man at table nine. She wished she could help, but all she knew to do was to keep the liquor coming and hope that he wasn't going to try to drive home anytime soon. He was working on his third double; maybe she'd take him some chips to eat, maybe that would help. She glanced at his face and changed her mind, better to stay away.

Blair glanced at the clock for the third time in as many minutes, it was now 7:36 and still no

Jim. Not a word. He'd tried to reach him on the cell and had only gotten the standard, out of service message. Either Jim had turned the phone off or he was out of range. Blair was starting to worry, even if he'd stopped to pick up dinner Ellison should have been home by now. What could have happened? Megan said he'd looked miserable when he'd left. If that was true surely he'd come home. Where else would he go? Blair couldn't think of anywhere, but he knew that he couldn't sit any longer waiting for Jim to come through the door. Somehow he knew that wasn't happening any time soon.

As he finished his third and started on the next drink he felt the air currents around him start to swirl. Looking up he saw the ceiling fan as its blades rotated. They reminded him of the blades on the chopper as it started down, slowing, then the abrupt cessation of the movement as they struck the ground only to go flying off in bits and pieces cutting a swathe through anything and everything in their way, even the men. Had it cut out his heart then? No, because it had hurt to bury them, and if it hurt, you weren't dead. Had it been Carolyn that had driven home the final blow? No, he'd driven her away himself. It was like a race to see if he could drive her away before she stopped, before she found that piece of him that made him what he was or what he wasn't.

Blair slowly drove through the streets, through parking lot after parking lot looking for the truck, he didn't know why, he just had a feeling that he'd find Jim in one of the many bars along the waterfront. Jim didn't usually drink much, a beer now and then after work or at a Jags game. They had liquor around the house, but rarely had Sandburg seen the detective take more than a single drink, knowing he could be called out at any time. But this time was different, Blair just knew it. And sure enough, there sat Ellison's truck in the parking lot of a place called "Scoundrels", rather fitting actually Blair thought, after all Ellison was quite a rogue.

"Miss, next time through, bring me another one."

"Sure bubba, uh, you sure you don't want something to eat?"

He just shook his head, the liquor was making his tongue thick so it was easier to nod than speak. When she brought it, he didn't even look up. He never looked up from the table, he just placed the now empty glass next to the others and moved the full one in front of him. As he lifted the glass in a toast to all that had left him his eyes were momentarily drawn to the door of the bar as it opened. A shadowy form entered. Standing just inside the doorway for a moment the slight figure approached table nine. As it reached the front of the table the form stopped, without lifting his gaze Ellison asked, "What is it Chief, what do you want?"

"Can I sit down?"

"and if I said no?"

"I don't know, but I hope you won't."

"Sure, go ahead. Miss, would you bring my buddy here a Bud light draft, and put it on my tab."

Looking at the younger man for confirmation she set the vodka on the table in front of the detective and went off to get the beer.

Blair looked at the table lined with the empty glasses. Four empty and one full, from the looks of it they were all doubles. And the man in front of him was far from finished from the look in his eye.

"Uh, Jim, don't you think…."

"No, I don't think, I don't want to think, that's why I'm here drinking myself into oblivion, where I won't be able to think. Because you know what Chief, I THINK I must be the most heartless bastard that ever walked this earth. I THINK I must be some kind of monster that can't love or be loved. I THINK that the closest I can come to love is fucking my brains out in a damn closet while I'm supposed to be working. I THINK that my mother knew that and that's why she left, I THINK my father knew that and that's why he didn't bother, I THINK Carolyn knew and that's why she got out when she could, that's what I THINK"

His voice rose as he delivered the speech and he ended it by downing the rest of the vodka and slamming the empty glass on the table. The waitress approached with the beer for Blair and as she set it down Ellison motioned for her to bring him another. She glanced at Sandburg, but saw nothing that would give any indication to the negative so she left and returned shortly with another glass. In that time period there had been not a word spoken at table nine, neither man had given voice to the thoughts spinning inside.

"Jim, let's go home and get some dinner, then we can talk."

"I don't want to talk, I just want … I don't know what I want Chief, I just know I' tired and I'm cold inside and…"

"I know man, come on let's pay the bill and get out of here."

When the two men stepped outside into the night air, the Sentinel stiffened as his nostrils flared slightly, he looked at Blair and remarked," You know fear and death have their own smells Sandburg."

"Where did that come from? "

"Because back in there I couldn't smell it, but now that we're out here I can smell the fear in you. What is it you're afraid of Sandburg? Is it me?"

"No, not really you, I think I'm more afraid for you than of you, if that makes sense."

The big man looked down at his companion and said nothing, just followed him to the truck.

"Why don't you let me drive Jim? I think you've had too much."

"Yeah, you're right, I've had too much, too much vodka, too much pain, too much of this crap."

Blair knew the best thing to do was to get them home before things got out of hand. He didn't know where Ellison was headed, but he was sure it was going to be a bumpy ride.

When they arrived at the loft Ellison headed to the cabinet where the liquor was kept. Reaching for the bottle of vodka he felt Blair's gaze on him, but he continued on with this task. He poured the clear liquid into a glass and then went to the freezer, opened it and dropped several ice cubes in with the alcohol. Blair watched silently and waited as the detective walked to the couch and sat down.

"So where is all this going man? "

"What do you mean Sandburg?"

"Where do you get off calling yourself a heartless bastard? What makes you think that your mom left because of you, she left because of the true heartless bastard of the Ellison family, your father. But what I really want to know is what brought this on? What started all of this?"

"Laura"

That one word spoken so softly Blair almost missed it. "Laura, did you say Laura? Jim you barely knew the woman. How in the world could she be the cause of this?"

"I needed her Chief, I wanted her. I could touch it. What I felt for her was sheer animal lust, I know that, but drove it was this need for it to be real, for it to be more, for it to be love." He'd started out almost shouting, but as he closed he was back to the whisper so soft Blair had to strain to hear the last words.

"Jim, this isn't about Laura, it's about leaving, it's about…"

"It's about wanting someone, anyone to love me Chief, and I just don't think that's possible, not for the long run. I think I must only deserve the shallowness of infatuation and nothing else. Somewhere a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I must have really pissed off the gods."

Blair stopped and looked in time to see Jim dash his arm across his face to wipe away the tear or two that spilled from the blue eyes. Eyes that were clouded by pain and Blair looked into them and saw what the waitress had seen. He saw a man dying for the need of human love. A man that had been left behind by every person he'd every cared about. A man who had built walls and torn them down and built them up again, but this time the wall had become a tomb and Blair had to find a way to reach him.

"Don't you understand Jim? It's not you, it's them. You may be high maintenance, but… you're not…, you're not, well, you're not unlovable if that's what you think. I mean good grief there are lots of people who care about you. Simon and Darryl and H and everybody, even Megan, though she'd hate to admit it. And what about me? Don't you think I care about you? "

"Blair you care about me just like you did Larry, he was a study subject. "

"Man how can you say that, how can you look at me and tell me you really, truly believe that?"

"I'm sorry Sandburg, but it's been a long day and I 've had a lot to drink and I think I'd better just head upstairs to bed."

"Now look who's running away."

"What did you say Sandburg?"

"I asked who was running away now. Naomi used to run like that, everytime things would get to hot she'd pack up and leave, we'd go bounding off somewhere else. And now you're doing it, here I am willing to do whatever I can to assure you that that's nothing wrong with you and you want to tuck your tail and run and hide. Well I won't let you. Not until I'm finished. I love you James Ellison."

Jim stopped dead in his tracks he stood motionless not turning, nothing. Blair stopped waiting for some reaction, but after getting no signal from the larger man he continued on, "I mean I really love you, not you know, in some sexual way. I love you like, like, a person loves another person, you know kind of like brothers, but more. I mean, Jim there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you. I'll always love you, I don't know how or why but I will. It's like you're part of me, like I'm not whole without you and I was kind of hoping that you felt the same, but I guess you don't, so maybe I should've just kept my mouth shut…"

"No, Sandburg… Blair, you're right but I'm so scared that if I let myself really feel it that you'll leave to, so I just shove it back behind some other wall."

"Well don't, don't be afraid, because I' not leaving, you're stuck with me. I'll always be here."

"We'll see." He turned to walk away and found himself turning again to face the young man, he quickly crossed the distance between them and without thinking reached out and pulled the smaller man into a crushing embrace. Blair was totally off guard, he never expected this reaction, didn't know how to respond and then after the initial shock he reached up and returned the embrace. Patting the back of the big man he told him" It'll be okay, we'll get through it. No matter what I'm here for you buddy."

"I know Chief, I just wanted it so bad. I just wanted to be like everyone else for once. I just wanted someone to call my own." He straightened up and looked down into the young man's face. Blair could see the tracks of tears down the carved face and knew the pain that had caused them hadn't gone away. It had only been pushed back, it would rise again and he promised that he'd be there when it did. Ellison turned a slowly trudged up the steps to his bedroom leaving Blair in contemplation still standing in the middle of the room.

On the other side of town a lone female walked into a dimly lit bar she walked to the back and sat down at the table still bearing the remnants of the last occupants. The waitress picked up the five glasses and the lone beer bottle and quickly wiped the table down. "What'll you have?"

The woman, in her mid thirties, with dark brown hair and brown doe eyes looked up at the waitress, "Stoli, on the rocks, and make it a double, please."

The waitress looked at her and then turned and walked away, reaching the bar she caught the bartender's eye and placed the order for table nine.


End file.
